I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: un-ending thanks to KQ who discovered and suggested the most wonderful inscription included below. I know ... I KNOW ... just 3 chapters? Yes, just 3 as I attempt to manage the monolithic tendency I have. Thank you each and all for reading! With luck, Prysm will find his way back into some other story down the road.
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
"Did you get it? All of it?" Danny's voice was thin and wispy, but the tone validated his excitement. There was no hiding that fact. His eyes were shining when Steve entered his bedroom. Danny was like a little kid at Christmas once he'd decided how he needed to reconnect with Prysm. Reconnect in order to properly thank the teen and he'd enlisted a very willing Steve to help him on this particular mission.
"I did," Steve replied, his grin genuine but tempered by worry. "How are you feeling?"
Slow to get back on his feet, even after being discharged from the hospital so many days earlier, Steve found his friend in bed after quietly using his key to open Danny's front door. He tried to hide his disappointment at finding Danny bedridden - again - so early in the evening. Not even sunset yet, he'd brought dinner, picked up the requisite gifts which Danny was anticipating, and had hoped they'd be able to take a slow walk. However, based on Danny's complexion alone, that concept was going to be a moot point; Steve would be lucky to get his partner to eat more than a few bites.
"I'm good," Danny insisted when he spied the worry in Steve's eyes. "So wipe that look off your face. I'm fine."
"I don't have a look, Danno. And you're not fine," Steve objected as he sat on the edge of the bed and placed the boutique's pretty red shopping bag between them. But he clearly must have had some sort of doleful expression as Danny rolled his eyes mockingly towards the ceiling. At a loss to help himself from being any other way, Steve chuffed a self-conscious sound and then, he simply opted to change the subject entirely. "I brought dinner. You can't keep eating your version of take-out or those God-awful frozen microwaved dinners."
"Oh, I see ... and what you brought as take-out is better?" Danny grinned, lop-sided, allowing the diversion despite how excited he was to see what was in the boutique's bag. He'd waited what seemed an eternity for his special order to come in after finding just the right thing for the talented teen. Still, he fretted over his choice in the end and only with Steve's prodding, did Danny finally commit. Now, he was thrilled that everything had finally been done and he was staring at the bag with a smile on his face, yet the easy banter was what they both needed. In fact, they both seemed to rely on it as he slowly regained his health.
"Why's that, Steven? Take-out is take-out ... doesn't change too much," he chided lightly. "Fast food is just that ... fast. It's not designed to be anything else."
"Says you! You'd be entirely wrong with that assumption of yours," Steve snarked back, feigning outrage. But he sighed deeply then, his mouth tense as he helplessly came full circle. His friend's complexion lacked color and Danny's stamina was virtually non-existent. Even a simple conversation seemed to wear him down to a nub. "Are you sure you're feeling all right? How's the shoulder? Do you need anything ... anything at all?"
Danny's left arm was strapped to his chest to take pressure off the healing bullet wound. At such close range, a serious amount of damage had been done. The bullet had shattered his clavicle, the bone diverting the small missile upwards to tear through muscle. He'd lost a significant amount of blood and earned himself a purulent infection to boot. Oddly, the doctors said he'd been incredibly lucky. If the bullet had gone in any other direction, he'd have bled out in minutes or lost the use of his arm. Nonetheless, this supposed turn at good luck would keep Danny out of commission for weeks to come.
He was home but looked chronically ill and tired much too easily. He couldn't work, couldn't drive, had yet to even begin discussing the concept of physical therapy and hadn't even asked when he might be able to do any one of those things. Not once. So Steve wasn't the only one worried by that point because they'd all been put through the proverbial mill.
"Steve ...," Exasperated by the molly-coddling, Danny started to reply. The words that ran through his head were at first caustic and completely defensive, but he suddenly switched gears. His injury had been severe enough and Steve had every right to be hen-pecking and worrying over his recovery. In fact, Danny was darn blessed just to be home and he well knew it.
"Yes, I'm honestly ... truthfully ... okay." Danny stressed seriously. "I haven't been in bed all day ... I ate lunch ... took my meds, read a book, and even managed a nap. I'm good, Steve. Really."
"Okay," Steve nodded, mollified as he poked the shopping bag, a genuine smile finally breaking free. He relaxed, moved on and focused on what his friend was so anxious to see. When he met Danny's eyes, his smile grew proudly. "So yeah, I got it. One dark brown leather moleskin journal as ordered."
"Coffee-brown," Danny corrected him as he tried squirrel himself higher on the pillows. His excitement was back and firmly in place. "The description specifically said coffee-brown, Steven. And where's the quiver? Did you get that too? Is it the double quiver like I wanted? Let me see it all."
"Yes, Danny," Steve patiently answered as he carefully pulled one of the smaller boxed items from the bag first. "Everything's perfect. It's just what you wanted and he's going to love it."
He opened the rectangular white box to show Danny what was inside, pleased by the quiet reaction. "Just like the journal, its 100% leather, hand-made. It's the finest quiver out there in mocha ... a perfect accessory for the new journal. It'll slide right on over the hard cover and it will hold the two pens side by side ..."
"Fountain pens," Danny interrupted, his jaw jutting out temperamentally. "Custom fountain pens ... the details are important. Critical in fact."
"Fine, yes! Fountain pens! And before you ask ... yes, they were also in ... it's all here, buddy," Steve laughed as he pulled out the second box to show off the custom writing instruments before stowing them off to the side. He jokingly lifted an eyebrow with one final tap of his hand on the shopping bag, intentionally leaving the best for last.
"Are you ready?" Steve asked, unable to stop grinning when Danny merely nodded. With a flourish, he pulled out the larger box and put it on Danny's lap, pulling the top off to reveal the personalized moleskin journal inside. A special gift which was more than a mere adequate replacement for Prsym's completely ruined spiral bound journal of poetry.
"Wow," Danny hushed out completely impressed by the fine leather. Two fingers gently ghosted over the embossed lettering almost in awe, before he looked up at Steve. "We did good."
"You did good," Steve softly corrected him, entirely pleased as Danny comfortably sagged back against the pillows. "Prysm is going to love this, Danno."
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
Prysm answered the door, unfazed by the Express delivery company's driver who gave him a queer look. Likely for the lip ring and newly styled coif of midnight blue hair. Accustomed to such reactions, Prysm remained utterly indifferent until he signed for the package and realized it was for him - Brad Morris - and not for his father, the senior Bradley further denoted by the honorific title of Esquire.
He stood there a while, just inside the lintel wondering who or why someone would send him anything until he closed the front door out of necessity. By the time he had done that, the delivery truck was long gone down the drive. But he didn't notice. He innately sensed what was inside would be special ... personal ... a gift just for him. Even though no one was home, he took the package to his room for privacy's sake where he sat quietly on his bed, his back up against the wall. He opened the outer box with care using his small penknife, making sure he was neat and cautious. Inside, was the main box but he paused to read the enclosed card first, smiling to himself when he read the very short note.
P ~ sorry about your journal. ~ D.
Prysm appreciated the brevity of the note and the solitude that a delivery afforded him. It was almost as if Danny knew he'd be embarrassed by too many words or by a personal face to face visit. Mortified and put off by too much attention. The situation was awkward at best and Prysm was still working through the horrors of what had happened. He had dreams ... nightmares really ... and he was slow to get back on an even keel. He knew Danny was recovering too and getting better; he appreciated that fact and was truthfully very relieved for the detective. But other than that, Prysm wanted to forget that terrible day and he'd done his best to avoid the initial flurry of attention; most especially from a hungry media.
Still smiling and completely unsuspecting of what was truly inside, he lifted the lid to the inner box. He rummaged through the few sheaves of rich gold-colored paper and then his fingers froze scant inches from the dark brown leather. He closed his eyes, inhaled sharply and then looked again to be sure and this time, his jaw dropped open, mouth agape.
"No way," he stammered softly. "No fucking way. Are you serious?"
The dark brown leather journal was exquisite to his eyes. The double quiver was already in place on its cover and holding the pair of custom fountain pens. Side by side and ready for his use, each pen was a burnished mahogany. Prysm was speechless as the profound import of Danny's gift sincerely hit home. He read the embossed lettering on its cover over and over just to be certain he wasn't seeing things. Doubting everything was real ... and if it were real, he wasn't sure he deserved such a fine gift. And to this latter thought, he'd almost guess Danny's disgusted retort. So just as Danny had done once before, Prysm gently touched the embossed letters on the leather cover, tracing each with his fingertips.
"O ka pono ke hana 'ia a iho mai no lani"
It didn't matter to Prysm if Danny had help with finding just the right Hawaiian inscription. Not at all; not one bit because the man meant it and he meant this fine gift to be something treasured for Prysm alone. Something more than special which would replace his originally assumed irreplaceable paper journal full of poetry and hold significance. He hadn't thought such a thing possible ... and he'd literally just been proven entirely wrong.
Near tears, the teen caressed the expensive leather cover and smiled, his eyes shining brightly. Of everything that could have been said or shared to give him peace, the Detective had selected the most perfect one of all: "Continue to do good until the heavens come down to you."
~ END ~
